Disclaimer: I do not own any familiar characters/settings/plot featured in this story. They all belong to (most likely rolling in his grave) J.R.R. Tolkien.

Act I: The Nomad

Chapter Seven

Bilbo could honestly say that he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of children. Oh, he loved them well enough, and he certainly had no trouble watching or playing with them when they asked. He certainly loved all of his young cousins very much, and enjoyed watching them grow and learn about the world around him. No, his problem with children was that he simply didn't want any of his own. He didn't want the huge responsibility that came with being a father. No, he preferred to be the funny older cousin who spoiled the little ones with candy and toys. He liked being able to play with the children before sending them off for their parents to deal with when they became too much for him. But most of all, he liked that he wasn't in charge of keeping any child alive and safe. That was one duty he wanted no part in because it scared the hell out of him. Even caring for their health was a terrifying thought because so much could go wrong with a child.

Unfortunately, healers didn't get a say in the age of their patients.

"Please stop crying," he begged his first patient as the boy continued to sob in his cot. "I cannot help you if you don't stop and tell me what's wrong."

"M-My tu-tummy hurts!" the boy cried between great, gasping hiccups. Bilbo could see that he was missing several milk teeth. "I-I want my m-mama!"

"I know you do," the Hobbit sighed, feeling his heart twinge in sympathy. "But you can't see her until we know what's wrong with you. You might get her sick too."

The boy ignored him and continued to cry. He had snot running down his face and his wet cheeks were pink and turning pinker with every minute. His clothes were stained with some vomit and sweat, and he looked all together rather pathetic. The sight made Bilbo sigh and reach over to a nearby table to put down his notebook and writing charcoal. He would not be getting any answers to his questions anytime soon. Not until the boy calmed down, and Bilbo knew of only one way to calm him down.

"Come here now," he said, reaching over to pull the crying child into his lap. The boy didn't resist, and wrapped his arms around Bilbo and continued to cry into his neck. The healer patted the child's back and tried not to flinch from the weight and tight grip around him. Though only a child, his patient was still a Dwarf, and possessed the same strength and density as all of his kind.

"What is your name?" he asked after the child had calmed down slightly.

The boy sniffed and wiped his nose on Bilbo's shoulder. The healer ignored it with the ease that came from having worse body fluids soaked into his clothes. "I'm Regi son of Regin."

"Well, it is very nice to meet you, Regi. My name is Bilbo Baggins, and I am a Hobbit."

Two brown eyes peeked up at from him under a mess of brown braids. "W-What's a Hobbit?"

"It's a race of people, much like how you are a Dwarf," he explained to the child, pushing back some of the thick braids from his sweaty forehead, "and others are Men or Elves."

"Oh. Th-Then are you going to make me better?" Regi asked, biting his lower lip.

Bilbo nodded as he stared the boy in the eye. "I am. But in order to do that I need you to answer some questions for me. Can you do that, Regi?"

The young Dwarf sniffed again but slowly nodded. "I-I'll try."

Bilbo grinned and tweaked the child's button nose; earning himself a squeak and then a watery smile. "I know you will. You're a big and strong Dwarf after all. This isn't hard for you."

Regi raised his chin and puffed his chest out slightly. "R-Right! I'm a big boy just like Mama said!"

"Your mama sounds like a smart sort," he agreed, winking. "Now, can you tell me what hurts the most?"

"M-My tummy. It hurts real bad," the child confessed. "It h-hurt so much I threw up all o-over myself. I couldn't stop and n-now my throat hu-hurts too."

"Hmm. Do you remember when your tummy started hurting?" the healer questioned, running a soothing hand down Regi's small back.

The boy bit his lower lip and scrunched up his nose in obvious thought. "I-I don't know. A-After I had dinner?"

Bilbo raised his brows. He suddenly had an idea of what was wrong with the children. "I see. And what did you eat?"

"Um, s-salted beef, I th-think?"

Bilbo nodded and lifted one hand to feel the boy's forehead. As he thought, Regi was sporting a slight fever. "Well, Regi, I think I know what's wrong with you. But I won't know for sure until I speak to the other children here. So I'm going to let you lay down and rest again. Is that fine with you?"

Regi pouted, but still nodded and slid off of Bilbo's lap and back into his borrowed bed. The Hobbit tucked him in and patted his head fondly. "Sleep for now. You'll see that soon enough you will be better and able to go home to your family."

"Yo-You promise?" the Dwarf said, peeking up at the healer from beneath a small mountain of blankets.

Bilbo grinned, and tweaked the boy's button nose again. "I promise."

Three hours and several crying children later, Bilbo had his answer.

"They're not sick," he announced, dropping his worn out notebook on Óin's desk. "At least, they don't have a plague. It's food poisoning from spoiled meat."

Óin leaned back into his padded chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Correct. Those children all ate from the same butcher who was selling bad beef." He then smiled slightly and gave him a small nod of approval. "Well done, lad."

"It wasn't very hard," Bilbo admitted, scratching the back of his knee with his heel. "All I had to do was ask the children what they did the night before, and what hurt the most. With that it was pretty easy to see they had all eaten something bad."

The older healer shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Yes, but that was the point: you asked," he explained, emphasizing the last point. "You asked them questions and listened to their worries and concerns. Some healers wouldn't do that. They think they know best and ignore what their patients have to say. That type of arrogance can cost a person their life."

Bilbo blinked and rocked back on his heels. "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. How will you know what's wrong with someone if you don't ask them where it hurts?"

"Because some folk believe they know everything," replied Óin with a smirk. "You're done for the day. Come back tomorrow and I'll give you your last test."

Bilbo bit his lower lip as he struggled with whether or not to voice his desire before finally deciding to just blurt it out. "Can I stay until the children feel better? Most of them are scared and just want their parents. I don't want to leave them alone like this."

Óin cocked his head to the side, and studied the Hobbit for a moment before nodding. "I suppose that's acceptable. Most of them should be leaving soon anyways. Go ahead and stay until you think they'll be fine, or their parents come to claim them."

Bilbo ended up staying until the clinic closed and he had to leave. By then most of the children had calmed down enough to the point where they had become curious over the Hobbit sitting with them. He had humored them and endured their endless curiosity, and eventually even convinced them that no, he was not just a really, really short Elf. When he finally had to leave, the children were sad to see him go but he promised to visit them the next day if they were still there.

Stepping out of the clinic, he stopped short, and stared at the familiar face waiting for him. "Nori? What are you doing here?"

Nori blinked and held his hands out helplessly. "Because my father forgot to pull out?"

Bilbo scowled, and had to curb the urge to reach out and pull on one of his braids. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Mmm. I came to walk you home because Dori seems to be under the impression that you are defenseless and gullible." The Dwarf made a face like he had just met the village idiot. "Which we both know is bull, but Dori wouldn't listen."

Bilbo could believe that. Though he had only known Dori for a short time, it was fairly obvious that the Dwarf was the nurturing sort. "Well, that was kind of him. Thank you for making the trip just to escort me back."

Nori waved a dismissive hand as they began their trek home. "It's fine; I had to make a stop at this level anyways."

"Uh-huh," he said, giving the Dwarf a side-eyed look. "And do I want to know why or should I just not ask so I don't have to lie to the guards when they come looking for you?"

"Stick with ignorance. It will save you future sleepless nights," the thief replied, giving him a wink.

The Hobbit rolled his eyes in response. "You're so strange. Why do you even steal? I mean, your family isn't rich, certainly, but you're not as poor as Bofur and his kin. And I know you have a job; Dori told me you help out at one of the forges shoveling coal. So why be a thief when there is no pressing need?"

"You're very nosey aren't you? Do you know that some people consider that annoying?" the Dwarf asked, hiking up a brow.

"And you're trying to avoid answering my question by asking another question. Don't you know some people consider that to be annoying?" he retorted sweetly.

The thief snorted and then chuckled. "Fair enough. Well then, it's like this: before my ma kicked the bucket she racked up a lot of debts from different guilds. Needed loans and had some bad gambling debts. When she died, it fell to us to repay it. Hence, I steal."

"I see. Dori does not make enough to pay off these debts?"

"Well... Dori works for one of the guilds as a weaver. He's paid pretty well but…" Nori trailed off and ran his tongue over his canines as he visibly struggled to find the words. "Ori is training to become a scribe. The master he's apprenticed under is one of the best, and expensive as fuck. So most of Dori's money goes to paying for Ori's apprenticeship."

Bilbo nodded as he absorbed the answer. "I see. So why don't you get a job at one of the guilds too if they pay so well?"

"Because the guilds are controlled and occupied by families that have been in their trade for generations. It is very rare that they accept an outsider into the ranks. The only time they do is when that outsider is extremely gifted. Dori and Ori are both very talented and could find a trade on their skills alone," the thief explained, pointing to himself. "But me? I ain't so skilled."

Bilbo disagreed. Nori had quick fingers, quicker retorts, and a great poker face. Those were skills as far he was concerned. "You're a skilled liar. I'm sure someone out there would pay good money for that."

"Well, let me know when you find them," the Dwarf replied dryly.

They were quiet for a moment before Bilbo voiced another question. "What was she like?"

"Who?"

"Your mother."

Nori's eyes widened in surprise before he looked away. Bilbo watched as his mouth turned down, and his eyes seemed to darken slightly into the swampy green he had seen back in prison. "Ma? She was... well, she was different. She wasn't cut out to be a mother but I guess she did her best for us. Kept us clothed and fed and never hesitated to protect us. But she was... I don't know, I guess distant? Never really hugged us as brats and never got real deep and emotional with us. Not like Dori does. Knew the best drinking songs though, and could hold her own in a game of cards."

"She sounded like an interesting character," he admitted, carefully selecting his words. "How did she die?"

"Giving birth to Ori. A common occurrence amongst our females."

Bilbo winced in sympathy. "Oh. I'm sorry."

The Dwarf just waved a lazy hand. "Ehh, don't worry about it. Like I said, it's normal for our race. That's why we value children so much."

"That's right, they mentioned that at the clinic. They said you value children above gold and silver," he mused, scratching his nose. "Is that true?"

"Mmm. Offspring are rare and few so we treasure each one. There are centers set up around the kingdom that offer free food, clothes, and schooling for children if their parents are unable to provide for them. Orphans are always given to the best families and touching a sprog wrong can be punishable by death," the Dwarf explained, brushing some of his braids back from his face.

Bilbo was now very impressed with Dwarves. Not even the Elves put so much attention in caring for their children. "Wow. That's very devoted of you lot."

Nori shrugged. "Like I said, children are rare and few. We value them because they are always a gift to us."

"Hmm. You know, it's rather surprising your race has survived for so long considering your small number of females, and the limited children birthed each year," the Hobbit mused, thinking over the statistics of it all. His own people were in danger of going extinct, and Hobbits could outbreed rabbits.

Nori snickered, and flashed him a mischievous smile. "Good thing we don't depend only on females for reproduction then, huh?"

"You don't?" he repeated in surprise.

"Nope," the thief chirped. "Mahâl gave us a second way to create children." He paused and then wrinkled his nose and corrected, "Or I guess first because females came later."

Bilbo stopped and just stared.

"You're going to have to explain this to me because I'm completely lost," he finally said after he got his brain and mouth on the same level.

"Alright but don't tell anyone I told you. This isn't supposed to be known by outsiders," replied Nori, nudging him into walking along again.

He allowed it, and even endured the hand guiding him along by his elbow. "Then why are you telling me?"

"Because I don't give a fuck if you know or not," the thief replied bluntly as he ran his teeth over his canines. "Now, let's see... As the story goes, in the beginning we were stone. That is how we started and that's how we end. Mahâl carved the first Seven Fathers from seven different stones from seven different mountains. He then set each Dwarrow in a different mountain where they slept until it was time to be awoken. The first to wake was Durin the Deathless; the First Born and King of all Dwarrows. He was the one who journeyed across the land to each mountain to awaken his brothers so that they could begin their task of learning Mahâl's craft.

"They lived for a time under Mahâl's care and tutelage until finally they were ready to create their own forges. But a teacher needs a pupil, and so Mahâl shared with them the secret of crafting a being from stone. So each created a son to carry on his legacy, and from them the Seven Clans were created."

"But what about your females?" Bilbo asked as he listened along. "If you had this gift all along, then you wouldn't need females right?"

Nori nodded and continued, "Right. Like I said, females came later. You see, Dwarrows had begun to misuse the gift of life they had been granted. They began to kill the sons that they deemed as 'flawed' in order to create a new, better pupil. When Mahâl saw that His gift was being abused and corrupted, He created females, and took back the knowledge He gifted us. Now the only way to create a child through stone is through our Keepers. They're the only ones who were allowed to keep the secret craft."

The Hobbit was stunned. It had never occurred to him that life could start through different means. Which was stupid he realized in hindsight as the world was filled with different forms of life. "Wow, that's amazing! So a Dwarrow could just go to this Keeper and ask for a child and it will be granted?"

"Sort of. It depends on Mahâl," the thief explained. "The Keeper can carve the child but whether he lives is up to Mahâl. If He finds the Dwarrow worthy, then He will breathe life into it. If not, then the child will remain stone."

"Huh. So why don't you just carve a bunch of females to make up for the low numbers? Or is that not allowed?"

"Not possible. We can only carve males from stone."

"Why?"

"Because just like our children, Dwarrowdams were a gift we took and twisted and violated." Nori's face closed off a bit with those words, and Bilbo wondered what twisted acts the Dwarf had witnessed with his own mother. "When Mahâl saw this, He realized that He could not trust us to treat His daughters fairly. So He made it only possible for females to be born from another Dwarrowdam. It was His way of protecting them, I guess."

Bilbo nodded slowly as he absorbed all of the new information he had learned. He was a bit amazed, really, at how much love their creator, Aulë, had showered them with. It made him a bit jealous too that the Dwarves had the reassurance that their creator was always there for them. Hobbits had no real patron among the Valar, and tended to pray to whichever one they felt the deepest connection with. Most were drawn to Nienna the Weeper or Estë the Gentle as they were the most sympathetic to Hobbits and their plight.

"So where do Hobbits come from?" asked Nori as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"We... don't really know," Bilbo admitted, staring down at his bare feet. "We don't have any connection to one of the Valar, or proof that we are Children of Ilúvatar like the Elves and Men. We sort of just appeared one day in the Valley of the Anduin River. Eventually we migrated to Eriador, and settled there until a hundred years ago when Smaug arrived."

Nori suddenly stopped and turned to stare at him with wide eyes. "Wait, your people came from the Valley of the Anduin River? But that's near here! Your people originated from here!"

The Hobbit stopped as well and stared at his companion in bewilderment. "Yes, and?"

"Nothing, I guess, it just surprised me," the thief admitted with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "I don't remember any legends mentioning your kind. Which is strange because we usually keep detailed accounts of every interaction with other races. Even Elves."

Bilbo thought back to the legend of why his people ended up migrating over the Misty Mountains, and snorted. "No, I don't suppose you would have."

Nori raised an eyebrow but didn't ask for clarification. That was fine with him. Bilbo didn't really want to share such a tale with Dwarf. He had a feeling it wouldn't be well-received by any Dwarf of Erebor.